Brother's First
by ChampagneWishes
Summary: Sam's coming down with something, Dean notices, even though he might be sick too. Sick!Dean/Sick!Sam
1. Chapter 1

I just wanted to torture Dean and Sam together. No plot and less point…

"HETCHOO! HETCHOO!"

"Bless you…" Dean muttered, pulling his voice along his own scratchy throat.

"Thanks." Sam muttered, burying himself deeper in his jacket and coughing a few times into his hands. He was trying to be subtle, Dean could tell, but Dean knew his little brother was sick.

"You alright?" He asked, like he didn't already know the answer.

"Think I might be ATCHOO coming down with-" Another coughing fit, "Something."

"Yeah. Sounds like it." Dean said. The sneezes and coughs from the passenger seat had been coming with increased frequency for the last several hours, that and Sam's constant fiddling with the car's climate control had told Dean that something was wrong and getting worse fast. "Next place, we'll stop." He muttered. His own throat was killing him, and Sam constantly messing with the car's temperature had his own running wild, one moment he was sweating the next he was clenching his teeth to keep himself from shivering.

He had thought maybe there'd be a chance they could make it to Bobby's but there was a headache pressing in on all sides of Dean's skull and he wanted nothing more than to drop into a bed, right here and now. Hell, if his brother wasn't coughing and sneezing like he was trying to dislodge internal organs, Dean might have just pulled the car over to the side of the road and taken a quick nap to try and refresh himself, but it was all too obvious his brother needed a real bed. Soon.

A tiny voice whispered that he needed one too, but he ignored it. He had to take care of his brother first.

A/N: How am I doing so far?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Since y'all seem to be liking this, and I like torturing the brother's, I'll keep going.

* * *

><p>"Wake up Sam." Dean said, he knew he sounded gruffer than he meant to, but he couldn't help it. He forced himself to get out of the car and started unloading things from the trunk, forcing himself to keep moving because he was worried that if he stopped, he'd have trouble starting again.<p>

"We ATCHOO here?" Sammy muttered from the front seat, Dean watched his brother slowly uncoil himself from the seat and from the wincing decided muscles aches were definitely setting in. The flu. Dammit. They could not afford to have the flu. Not was so much to do.

"Just stopping for the night. Few hundred more miles to go." He walked past his brother, the bags in his arms feeling a hundred times heavier than usual. Can't stop. Must not stop. Sammy needs me. He dropped the bags and went back for the next load and found Sammy leaning against the Impala, coughing hard. "Come on Sammy, bed's in there." Dean muttered as he walked past. Sam glared at him. "Don't cough on my baby." He added for good measure.

Come on Sam, just go inside. Dean prayed silently to himself, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he used every ounce of strength to remain upright as he watched Sammy shuffle towards the door. He heaved a silent sigh of relief as Sammy crossed the threshold and he heard the reassuring sound of bed springs protesting a sudden weight being dropped on them. Dean followed him, and dropped the bags on the floor as soon as he got indoors. He pulled out the first aid kit and started rummaging through it. Damn. A few Tylenol but nothing else to fight fevers and coughs. Damn. He glanced over at Sam.

"We could have kept going." Sam muttered. "I'm not *cough, cough* that bad." He finished with a sneeze. "Ugh, do we have any tissues?"

Dean tried to come up with something clever to say, but the headache pressed out all thoughts. "Gotta hit the pharmacy." Dean said. "Here." He brought his brother the Tylenol.

Sam pouted as he took the drugs. "I'm sick dude. Stop glaring at me like that. You could have kept driving. We didn't have to stop." Dean realized Sam thought he was mad at him for being sick. Dean was glad his brother hadn't discovered his own weakness.

"Just take the damn drugs. And get some sleep. We're out of here first thing in the morning."

"I need water..." Sam said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean said, already moving towards the bathroom and filling a paper cup in the sink. He handed it to his brother. "Back in a bit."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean starred blearily at the array of cough syrups and medicines arranged in neat rows on the shelves. He grabbed a few that we're clearly labeled "flu" and staggered up to the counter. At the last minute he remembered to grab several bottles of Gatorade, tissues and instant noodle cups.

He dropped the armload onto the counter and attempted his most charming smile at the cashier, who only snapped her gum and stepped several feet back as she got an eyeful of him. He realized he must really look like hell if that that was his reaction from a girl. She rang up his total, snapped her gum a few more times and then managed a "feel better" as he made his way out of the store.  
>He collapsed in the front seat of his baby and had to fight his eyes closing right then and there. On the drive home, he was sure he would be pulled over for driving drunk as his car weaved across the road because it sure seemed like the road refused to stay in one straight line.<p>

At last he reached the hotel and stumbled back to his room. Sam was asleep, snoring through congested sinuses. Dean sank down on the other bed and shook his brother awake.

"Gnh?" Sam said, rolling over and looking at his blearily.

"I got you medicine. Gatorade." Words were so much effort. But at least he was here now.

"Thanks." Sam sat up, and took the offered pill bottle and measured out an appropriate dose as Dean cracked open a blue Gatorade for him.

"Here." He offered him the Gatorade and then cringed when Sam wince as he swallowed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Feels like I got hit by a truck."

Dean nodded. "Get some rest. Maybe in the morning will try for Bobby's." Sam nodded.

"Sorry," he said, though he wasn't sure why he was apologizing for being sick. It happened but his brother seemed tense and aggravated.

"S'fine," Dean said. "Sleep."

"Right." With a sigh that turned into a cough, Sam turned away from his brother. Dean watched him, until the tense shoulders relaxed, his breathing evened out slightly, and he fell asleep.  
>When his brother was finally asleep, Dean finally breathed his own sigh of relief. The bed on which he sat seemed to be pulling him down toward it, and after dry swallowing a couple of pills, he let himself collapse into it.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

When Sam awoke, a few hours later, he felt no better. His vision swam as he sat up and he had to wait for the vertigo to subside but as the dimly lit room came into focus he was surprised to see Dean passed out in the bed next to him, still fully clothed. He got up and shuffled to the bathroom to relieve himself then came back and inspected his brother. He had expected his brother to be awake and looking for their next hunt but when he looked at the clock he realized it was 3am. But why had Dean fallen asleep fully clothed like that? Had Dean gone out to a bar? Come back drunk? No, Dean wouldn't leave him here like that when he was sick.

He lurched back towards his bed. Being upright made the blood pound in his ears. His mind was fuzzy with fever and it struggled to make sense of the scene. Something was wrong. He was shivering as he climbed back into bed, his eyes still on his brother. He pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Sleep was fast closing in on him.

Then something connected. His eye flew open.

Damn.

Dean was sick.

The realization was so obvious that Sam felt ashamed that he hadn't noticed it earlier. That was why Dean had been so gruff with him. He felt bad for having thought the worst of his brother and for not having noticed that Dean was ill.

He put his hand to his brother's shoulder and noticed instantly the heat seeping from him. "Hey, wake up Dean."

"Sam? Why're you awake? You're sick. Go back to sleep." He sat up and pushed Sam's hand off of him. "Take these." He groped around on the nightstand clumsily, until he found the bottle of pills.

"You're sick too." Sam pointed out lamely. Dean shrugged.

"M'fine." As if to prove his point he got out of bed and weaved his way to the bathroom. Sam would almost have laughed at his brother's drunk-like steps but was ore concerned for his brother at the moment, but he knew he had his own symptoms to attend to, the headache clawing at his brain, the urge to sleep pushing him back towards the pillow, the coughs that threatened in his throat. He took several pills and waited for Dean to return from the bathroom.


End file.
